Evelyn Richardson (10 page)

“Except for her uncle.”

“Except for her uncle, whose affairs keep him in London a good deal of the time.”

“And are there no other uncles, cousins, or…ah…aunts to provide a stabilizing influence?”

“No. William, my younger brother, was killed at Waterloo. He was not married.”

“Ah. I am sorry.” The carefully neutral tone of his voice told her how deeply this loss was felt. Struggling to remember, Catherine recalled a vague image of a handsome, laughing young man in regimentals who stood in considerable awe of his older brother’s reputation as a noted whip and Corinthian. So apparently there had been no Lady Lucian Verney who had suddenly become the Marchioness of Charlmont? Catherine chided herself for suddenly feeling so lighthearted when the faraway look in Lucian’s eyes told her that the loss of his younger brother continued to be a freshly felt pain.

“I know he was very dear to you.” It was her turn to lay a sympathetic hand on his arm.

“Very dear, but”—his smile twisted—“he would be the first to scold me for mourning him. To him it was all a glorious adventure, and Waterloo, undoubtedly, the most glorious of all. He always told me he wanted nothing more than to be a hero…and that is what he was.”

They were both quiet for some time, alone with their thoughts, yet sensible of the sympathetic presence of the other. It had always been this way between them. They had always managed to share their thoughts without the least self-consciousness, each secure in the confidence of being accepted and appreciated by the other.

It was Lucian who broke the silence at last. “But I am here to see that you enjoy yourself. I am also here to prove to you that I am a serious fellow who is entirely capable of acting as responsibly toward his niece as any guardian in the land. Now, tell me more about your academy. How did you begin and where did you find what appear to be your dedicated and excellent instructresses?”

“What? Did you make no inquiries at all as to the history and reputation of my academy before you decided upon it for your niece?” She shot him a teasing glance that for a moment transformed her into the Catherine he remembered—spirited, lively, confident of her own cleverness and resourcefulness.

“It was, er, a rather sudden decision,” He admitted. “I had been absent from Charlmont for some time, and when I finally paid a visit, I could see that the situation was rapidly getting out of hand. Your academy is close enough to Arabella’s home that her family can visit should she fall into a decline, and Bath itself has enough distractions to amuse her, should your instructresses fail to engage her attention.”

‘They will not fail.”

“You seem remarkably confident of their ability.”

“I am. The woman you saw teaching Phèdre was my own dear governess, Madame de St. Alembert. She and her husband barely escaped from France with their lives, and when her husband died soon after their arrival in England, she came to us in order to earn her living. She was a remarkable teacher, and when I went to London for my Season, she became an instructress at an academy in Harrogate. Naturally, I sought her out immediately when I began my academy here. I count myself very fortunate to have lured her here, along with some of her fellow instructresses.”

“I imagine that Bath does have a good deal more to offer than Harrogate.”

“Perhaps, but I also pay a wage commensurate with their talents—something that is all too rare even in male educational establishments, much less female ones.”

He smiled at the fierceness of her tone. “Forever the reformer. No wonder ‘Ugolino’ is afraid of you. You will turn his precious little world of wealth and privilege upside down before you’re through.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“You always were a fire-eater. I am glad you have not changed. I knew it the first time I saw you at Almack’s. While all the other young ladies were pinning bright welcoming smiles on their faces, you were scowling like a thundercloud, and I knew you were the one for…ah, I knew we were all in the basket. You seemed to see right through all the fashionable pretenses and it was painfully obvious that you had no use for the company in general or the Marriage Mart in particular, as indeed you did not. Clearly Lord Granville made your acquaintance elsewhere.” It was a pitifully obvious ploy to discover more about her husband and her marriage. He knew it, but at the moment it was all he could come up with.

“Granville was a friend of Papa’s. Like Papa, he was convinced that canals were the key to many things—industry, commerce, travel, even agriculture. He agreed with Papa that investing in them was investing in the future of England. He came to Yorkshire to inspect some of Papa’s canals and that is how we met.”

“And having met you, he was immediately taken with your wit and beauty and determined at once to make you his wife.”

She cast him a pitying look. “You make me sound like some helpless creature from a novel. Granville and I discovered that we shared many of the same interests. I could see he was a man who took his responsibilities seriously. He worked hard to make his estates and his investments prosperous, which in turn made his tenants and his laborers prosperous as well. And he could see that I was equally serious about such things.”

“Ah. I see, a truly madcap affair, then.”

There was something in his look, Catherine could not quite say what it was, that put her on the defensive. “You may sneer if you like, but Granville needed a wife who could help him fulfill his dreams for his estate. He appreciated what I could do for him, the schools I wished to establish, the charitable plans I… In short, I would venture to say that there are very few husbands and wives who trusted and respected one another as we did.”

“There is no need to fly into the boughs. Believe me, I meant no disrespect.” Lucian himself could not say what had prompted him to make such an ironic comment in the first place. “Relationships of mutual trust and respect are far less common between men and women than madcap affairs. You are fortunate indeed to have found such a helpmeet. But tell me more about how Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy for Genteel Young Ladies came into being.”

And deftly steering the conversation toward less dangerous territory, Lucian was soon able to reestablish the tone of easy openness that had always distinguished their discussions.

However, after he had returned Catherine to the academy and had had time to reflect on their entire conversation, he found he was able to take a certain amount of satisfaction from her bloodless description of her marriage. Respect and trust were all very well, but they were not everything. The Lord knew, he had enjoyed precious few relationships, if any, that had been characterized by either respect or trust, much less both—except for the one he had enjoyed with her so long ago, until he had destroyed it. But had he ruined it entirely, or was there still something left after all those years? It was far too early to say, but he knew that he hoped so.

She still had the power to affect him strongly, but did he affect her in the same way? He was not sure. He pulled into the stable yard of the White Hart, a grimly ironic smile on his face. Who would ever have thought that the notorious Lucian Verney would ever be unsure of a female? Not since the age of twelve, when he had kissed his first chambermaid, had Lucian ever suffered a moment’s doubt where women were concerned. Young or old, rich or poor, peeress or peasant, they all were attracted by his frank appreciation, his dashing good looks, his ironic smile, and his genuine interest in them. With this woman, however, he had never been sure of himself. She was far too clever, too independent, and too dedicated to her own interests to make him feel even the least bit sure of himself with her.

There was nothing for it but to remain in Bath until he could find out for certain how she felt about him, for he was most uncomfortably aware of how he still felt about her. He might have been able to put her out of his mind for a time, but he had never forgotten how her quick wit, her ready smile, and her appreciation of whatever topic he happened to introduce made him feel as though he had at last met a soul mate in a world where everyone else was wasting time on the petty pursuit of wealth, or fame, or fashion.

Chapter Eleven

Lucian was not the only one to return from the drive in a reflective mood. Slowly stripping off her gloves, Catherine climbed the stairs to her office. After the bright sunshine and fresh air, the book-lined room seemed cramped and stuffy. For the past two years it had always been her place of refuge, the one place where she felt truly herself and not some powerless pawn to be shoved aside because she was inconvenient or in the way. Now, however, the cozy room seemed confining instead of protective, and she felt stifled instead of free from all outside pressures.

It had been glorious to be out of doors among the trees and flowers, with the blue sky and fluffy clouds overhead, glorious to be bowling along in a well-sprung vehicle driven by someone who could both drive to an inch and carry on an intelligent conversation at the same time. She had reveled in the luxury of being with a driver who made her feel as though she were a person of interest instead of a nuisance, a driver who made her feel full of life again, and, yes, a driver who made her feel attractive and special.

Pulling off her bonnet, Catherine ran her fingers through her hair. She had not felt so alive in a long time. A quick glance in the small looking glass on the wall next to a bookshelf confirmed this. Even to herself, she suddenly looked quite five years younger. She looked hopeful and excited, as though she had something to look forward to in life.

Surely a simple drive in the country could not be entirely responsible for such a change? Be careful, a cynical little voice in her head warned her. You know what he is, here one day and gone the next. But she was older and wiser now, a widow, no longer vulnerable to the dangerous schoolgirl fancies that had once turned an attractive man into a knight in shining armor. Now she expected nothing from Lucian except friendship, friendship and nothing more. But surely friendship was not too much to ask?

A knock on the door saved Catherine from having to answer this particular question for herself.

It was Arabella. “Excuse me. I did not mean to disturb you, Lady Catherine.” Arabella looked suddenly and uncharacteristically ill at ease. “But you did ask me to come see you at this hour.”

“Did I…? Oh, yes. Please sit down.” Quickly smoothing the hair disordered by her bonnet, Catherine indicated a chair on one side of the fireplace while she settled in the one opposite. Indeed, she had completely forgotten that she had set this time for a talk with Lucian’s niece to discover how she was getting on.

Sitting very straight, her hands demurely folded in her lap, Arabella examined her new headmistress anxiously.

“You need not look so apprehensive. I merely called you in to see how you are settling in. The first few days can be rather trying for anyone. I trust, however, that Olivia and the others have made you feel welcome.”

Arabella relaxed visibly. “Oh yes, indeed. They have been most kind, Olivia especially.”

“And your lessons? Not too overwhelming, I trust. All our instructresses are highly proficient in their fields and I can see how they might appear somewhat intimidating, but I assure you that their first concern is always for the well-being of their pupils.”

“Ye-es.” Arabella sounded less certain on this point. “Miss Denholme is very clever, is she not?”

“Exceedingly. But do not be put off by her formidable intellect. Underneath she has a heart of gold and is fiercely devoted to all her students, whether or not they share her enthusiasm for mathematical formulae.”

Clearly this was a relief to the academy’s newest arrival. She remained quiet for a moment as she regarded Catherine with a half-curious, half-appraising look.

Catherine looked back. She had seen this expression on several of her pupils’ faces, and generally these girls were the ones most inclined to think for themselves. They were young women who, if given the proper instruction and encouragement, would grow into woman to be reckoned with some day. “And now you are wondering about me.”

There was no need for an answer. Arabella’s expression of blank amazement was all the response necessary.

“It is plain to see that you are not accustomed to being around people, or at least females, who are in the least curious or observant.”

Arabella nodded slowly.

“And what are you wondering?”

“I do not know. I mean, that is…”

“Lady Arabella, one of the things I hope to teach every girl here, no matter how clever or how dull she may be, is to organize her thoughts quickly and express them clearly. In your case, I would say that you are a young woman who is already well accustomed to speaking her mind. Now is not the time to be missish.”

“Very well.” Arabella drew a deep breath, her full dark brows wrinkling in concentration. “I do not understand why you do it. It cannot be because you have to. I mean, the establishment is most comfortable and well appointed. And the girls say—that is to say, it is well known that you are already mistress of your own establishment so you do not need to work.” She paused as her eyes traveled to Catherine’s gown which, though it might not be in the first stare of fashion, was clearly made of the very best materials.

Taking pity on her obvious confusion, Catherine chuckled. “Why, since I appear to be a woman in sufficiently comfortable circumstances, do I do something that most people would only do out of necessity? Because, quite simply, I wish to do something useful. If I did not have any purpose to my life I would be intolerably bored. And it has been my experience that women who are bored either become excessively silly or turn into perfect harridans. As I have no wish to become either, I decided to start this academy to stop other perfectly intelligent young women from falling into the same vicious pattern. The more we women learn to think and to do things for ourselves, the less likely we are to meddle in other people’s lives or demand they look after us and take care of us.”